


i thought i was a fool for no one (oh baby i'm a fool for you)

by faithandbuffy



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Assassin AU!, F/F, I love them and miss them, I'll add more friendship tags as I go along, This has been a WIP for almost a year and I hope that by posting it I convince myself to finish, it might get a little steamy!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-31 10:43:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19424350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithandbuffy/pseuds/faithandbuffy
Summary: Shaw is an assassin who takes out wrongdoers and the worst of the worst. Root has no such morals and is just a run of the mill killer for hire. One night they are hired to take out the same target.





	1. the silver tigers in the moonlight running

Shaw had done this a thousand times before. Find the target, kill the target, get paid. Sometimes she'd find a cool new weapon or car if she was lucky. It was easy work and more importantly, it was _interesting_ work.

She had standards, mind you. She didn't go after just anybody - they'd have to be truly monstrous to get Shaw set after them; the kind who really endangered others. Innocents and civilians weren't Shaw's style, but a real bad guy? They were out before they could hit the floor. For a price of course.

This job was no different than usual. She'd found out about some dodgy senator who'd been selling weapons to various corrupt governments and had a few enemies who were more than happy to pay her to take him out.

After a few days stalking his _extremely_ well-protected house, Shaw had a carefully crafted plan. She managed to disable all four of his alarms in under two minutes, take out the outdoor security, and scale the trellis to a second-floor window.

There were two guards stationed in the corridor. Shaw quickly fixed on her gas mask, slid up the window and tossed a canister of homemade BZ onto the floor. The guards looked down and Shaw shot them both in the foot with her silencer, praying that the senator wouldn't hear their bodies hitting the floor. By the time she had clambered through the window, they were knocked out. She could have killed them where they slept, of course, but Shaw tried not to do freebies if she could help it.

She nudged open the door with her foot and was faced with a pistol at her temple.

"I wouldn't move if I were you. Put your gun away please, and close the door on your way in."

Shaw did as she was told as a woman, striking and tall, walked slowly round to face her, still holding the pistol up to her skull. SHe was smirking irritatingly at their roles, which made Shaw's blood boil instantly.

"Now then," she said as if she hadn't a care in the world, "what's your name, sweetie?"

Shaw stayed silent and the woman pressed the gun harder against her head. "I asked you a question."

"Shaw." She grunted quickly, and the woman gave a soft laugh.

"That suits you. Short and sweet," she said, her eyes flicking up and down Shaw's body suggestively.

"Are you gonna kill me?" Shaw asked carefully, "Because I have a dog so I need to make a quick call if you are."

The woman smiled again. "Why would I kill you? You're not my target and I tend not to kill for free if I can."

"Your target?" Shaw processed, "you're not security?"

"Security?" The woman laughed, "God no! I thought you were!"

Shaw shook her head, wary of the gun still pointed at it. 

"No…," she said slowly, "I'm here to kill the senator."

"Me too!" the woman said, lowering her gun - as if they'd discovered that they liked the same TV show rather than both being sent to murder a man. 

"But I'm sorry sweetie," she continued, gesturing over her shoulder, "guess I beat you to it." 

Shaw spun to look at the other side of the room for the first time since entering it. The senator was slumped over his desk with a trickle of blood running down his forehead from a single bullet hole.

"My target!" She rounded on the woman indignantly. "I won't get paid now, you bitch!"

She went to draw her sidearm but the woman was faster and raised her gun once more. 

"Okay Shaw, as much as I've enjoyed our chat; I have things to do, people to kill." She motioned with her free hand for Shaw to move away from the door, which Shaw did grudgingly, and the woman backed up and felt for the handle.

As the door swung open and the woman started to retreat, Shaw found herself speaking against her better judgement. 

"Wait. You never told me your name," she grunted.

The woman's wide smile returned once more as she began to close the door with Shaw on the other side of it. 

"It's Root." 

The door slammed shut, and Shaw drew her gun and hurried to fling it back open. The corridor was empty aside from the unconscious guards - and Root was gone.


	2. trade in our thumbs for ammunition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw's curious about the new player. She enlists some help.

Root. Root. Root. 

The name had been buzzing around Shaw’s head for a week now, and still, she hadn’t found any information about the other assassin. Nothing online, nothing from her common sources, just _nothing_.

She wondered if she’d spelt the name wrong, or if it was a foreign pronunciation of ‘Ruth’ or something. She’d sounded American though...ugh, Shaw was driving herself insane. She needed to get out of her loft and go and eat something other than Chinese takeout - and she knew just the place.

The pizza place 2 blocks from her apartment did the best Buffalo Chicken for miles and their bases were one of the factors Shaw had considered when renting her loft. It also helped that the pizzaiola was one of her sources. 

The only reason that Shaw hadn’t gone to her sooner was that Harper was...tricky. Shaw didn’t like owing people favours, and Harper’s favours often involved drugs - a practice which could put Shaw on some radars that she did not want to be on.

But she was getting desperate, and if any of her sources knew _anything_ about this ‘Root’ woman, it would be Harper. And if she didn’t, well Shaw would have to go a bit higher up.

“Hey Shaw!” the guy at the desk greeted her warmly and Shaw gave a slightly tired smile in return.

“The usual?” he said.

“Yeah thanks, Louis,” she leaned in, “I’m here on business though too. Is she in the back?”

He waved her over to the Staff Only door and said: “Where else would she be?”

***

Fifteen minutes later, Shaw was perched on a kitchen counter munching on Buffalo Chicken while an exasperated Harper was tossing dough into the air.

“Shaw, for the last time, I don’t know any ‘Root’ okay!”

Shaw growled in frustration through her mouthful. “Nothing? How can you not know anything Harper? She was in and out without bypassing any alarms or taking out any guards - how is that possible?”

“Oh,” Harper said, a look of gleeful realisation crossing her face, “so this isn’t because you want to know who she is. You want to know if she’s better than you.”

“What I want to know,” Shaw cut in dangerously, “is whether she’s competition.” She rubbed a hand across her tired eyes and relaxed her posture to put Harper at ease again. “Come on Harper, you have to know something; you’re my best source.”

“Second best,” Harper muttered, but at Shaw’s look, she continued, “Look. There’s a story. I didn’t mention it before because I still don’t know how credible it is, and nobody is mentioned by name.”

“Go on,” said Shaw, suddenly interested.

“I heard a woman from the agency talking about a time she’d gone to a hit, but somebody had already killed the guy. I was curious, so I asked around - turns out it’s happened more than once. Sound like your girl?”

“Yeah. Yeah okay, thanks, Harper. I owe you one.” Shaw said opening the door.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Harper replied, then said “Shaw? Be careful. It seems to me that there’s another player in the game now and I don’t want you to die owing me a favour.”

Shaw didn’t like the sound of that, but she nodded her acknowledgement all the same. “Nice to know you care, Rose.”

“Where are you going now?” Harper called out as she turned to leave. Shaw smirked.

“To see an old friend.”

***

The station was bustling with action when Shaw got there, which was exactly how she liked it. She sauntered through the crowd like she belonged there and went entirely unnoticed. Until she reached Reese’s desk.

He saw her immediately using that weird sixth sense that he seemed to possess. She gave him a cocky smile that he did not return.

“Hey, Reese. Got a sec?”

“Shaw.” he grumbled, “I’ve told you before. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Cool it, big guy,” she replied, pulling a chair in front of his desk and propping her feet up on a stack of paperwork, “I’m not staying. Just here for some intel.”

He sighed resignedly. “What sort of information? Be quick; Chief’s back in 10 and if he sees you we’re both toast.”

She quickly recounted her encounter with Root and the story that Harper had told her.

“Is that a reliable source or just a rumour?” he asked, scribbling down notes.

“All my sources are reliable!” she protested, “This one especially. No, I won’t tell you who it is. Look, can you help me or not?”

“Do you think you can describe her accurately?” he asked, then at her withering look, hurriedly continued, “go into interrogation and I’ll send Fusco in to draw up a sketch.”

“Amazing, thanks, Reese.”

“I’m not promising anything Shaw, don’t get your hopes up - if this woman is as anonymous as you say, she might not be on any records.”

“Yeah whatever, I’m not thanking you again. Send Lionel in.” she said over her shoulder as she went into interrogation.”

After a painstaking five minutes of idle chat about Fusco’s son, they finally got down to business.

“About 5’6” or 5’7”, thin, long brown hair, angular face. Her accent was southern, maybe Texan? Pretty and-”

“Pretty?” Fusco interrupted, “Weird descriptor for you to use, Shaw.” 

“We’re doing a sketch!” She said defensively, “Don’t be weird, I still hate the bitch. Big cocky smile, no warmth in the eyes though. Squared chin.”

***

When the sketch was done, Fusco ushered her out of the station “before Chief asks questions” and promised to get the sketch to Reese ASAP.

Shaw, feeling a little disgruntled at being thrown out so hastily, shoved her hands in her pockets and started walking back towards her loft.

As she was wondering whether to take Bear on a new route for tonight’s walk, a hand shot out from an alley and pulled her roughly inside.

“Heard you’ve been looking for me.” Root said, pushing her gun against Shaw’s ribs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shaw's not obsessed. Of course not. Just curious.


	3. in the cobwebs and the lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conflict! And a conversation!

“Root.”

“Why are you investigating me?” Root said pleasantly, pushing her gun harder against Shaw’s side. The proximity let Root’s shampoo - was that apple? - and warm breath wash over her.

“Why do you care?” Shaw countered easily.

“My employer...is not a fan of investigations. She likes for her employees to remain anonymous”

“Why did you tell me your name then?” The gun was starting to leave a bruise. Shaw slowly let her hand drift towards her pocket, feeling for the switchblade that she always kept hidden in the lining.

Root gave a rueful smile. “Yeah...that was a mistake on my part. But you know how it is; a pretty girl asks for your name - you give it to her, you know?”

Shaw blinked and her hand stopped inching to the blade for a moment. “Are you...flirting with me?!”

Root smirked, “Maybe. Why do you like it?”

“You-You're literally holding me at gunpoint right now!” This was a reminder for Shaw’s fingers to resume their progress towards the weapon. As her hand closed around it, Root suddenly looked alert and said, “Yes. Yes, I’ll finish up now, don’t worry.”

“Finish what??” Shaw asked worriedly, then saw the comms device in Root’s ear. She suddenly realised that Root wasn’t calling the shots during their encounter and knew that she had to act fast to bring the situation under her own control. She pulled her hand out of her pocket with the switchblade now open and concealed in her sleeve.

“Now Shaw,” Root said as if she were chastising a small child, “I thought an acclaimed hitman like you would be more aware of their surroundings. Letting me grab you like that was a little sloppy don’t you think?”

Shaw’s anger flared. Sloppy? She was many things: efficient, harsh, rude - but she was never sloppy.

“You caught me off guard, I’ll give you that.” she said, managing to reign in her indignation right before she spoke to buy herself some more time, “Tell me who trained you and I’ll congratulate them.”

Root laughed, and Shaw bristled at the cold tone. “No, you’re not going to convince me to talk - no matter how attractive you are. All I’ll say is that I’m obviously trained a lot better than you!”

“Hey, fuck you!” Shaw protested. She decided to try a different tact of sucking up to Root while still maintaining her pride, “Maybe you’re right and I’ve grown complacent with how many consecutive successful hits I’ve had. I’m never given any real competition anymore because I’ve taken them all out. I’ll have to be more aware next time.”

“Next time?” Root laughed again, showing off her brilliant smile, “Why do you think I’m here, Shaw? There’s not going to be a next time; You’re not getting out of this I’m afraid.”

Shaw had been expecting that. She wasn’t oblivious or sloppy, whatever Root said. She was cunning. She gave no verbal reaction, no outward surprise or dismay. She only looked down, and Root followed her gaze to the knife Shaw now held just over Root’s belly button.

“Ah.” Root said, her once-cocky smile dropping quickly. “You know, I could probably shoot you faster than you could stab me.”

“Probably? You seem to know a lot about me, Root. I wouldn’t like those odds if I were you.”

“No. Neither would I.” Root admitted, “So what happens now.”

Shaw thought about this. If she backed away, Root could still shoot her. She doubted whether she would put down her gun if Shaw asked either, but she knew that the other woman realised that they were in a stand-off. Shaw couldn’t reach her own gun because that side of her was pressed against the wall of the alley.

She turned her head towards the entrance of the alley and called out to the closest passerby “Hey, you! Come in here and give me and my friend a hand and I’ll give you fifty bucks.”

“We’re friends now are we Shaw?” Root quipped, and Shaw pointedly ignored her. ‘Friend’ was easier than ‘Woman who I am currently holding at knife-point’.

As she suspected, the lure of money outweighed the apparent dangers of talking to two strangers in an alley. The guy hadn’t seen their standoff yet. “I’ve got shit to do, lady, what do you want?” He stopped dead and before he could say a word about the drawn weapons, or Root could react to anything she might do - Shaw darted behind him. Another thing she was, was quick. She breathed a sigh of relief. Root wouldn’t shoot an unarmed civili-

The guy was on the floor before she finished the thought, and the through-and-through stuck in her left arm painfully, and Root was sprinting down the alleyway.

Shaw acted on impulse. She threw the knife with her good arm and watched as it satisfyingly lodged itself in Root’s back; right under the left shoulder blade. Shaw heard her cry out and watched her stumble, but Root kept running. By the time Shaw had recovered from the shock that a knife wound with that amount of force behind it didn’t topple Root’s scrawny frame, Root was too far away for Shaw to get an accurate shot with her now-drawn sidearm.

Shaw was left alone in the alley with a bleeding arm, a dead civilian, and about a hundred onlookers screaming around her. She did the only thing that made sense to her in that moment and ran.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that I'm not the best writer in the world so this story won't be for everyone because everyone has their own style and amount of experience. But I thought if I don't write and get feedback about it, how am I going to improve? So constructive criticism is very much appreciated, as well as pointers on anything American that I get wrong ((I'm English) although I outright reFUSE to change my spelling of 'rumour' it has a 'u' in it) are extremely helpful to me for future reference. I'm also trying my hardest to keep Root and Shaw in-character, but if they are OOC at times, I apologise. I hope you're all enjoying the story!


	4. never knew daylight could be so violent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw is in Pain™

“Reese? I need help.”

_In the thirty minutes that you left the station?_

“I’m not joking. Real help. Can you meet me in the safehouse with Bear and my weapons crate?”

_Which safehouse?_

“You know which safehouse.”

Shaw tossed her phone and kept running, clutching her bloody arm to her chest.

She’d managed to lose the traumatised crowd that had tried to chase her looking for answers, and hopped in a cab. After six blocks or so, she’d tossed some blood splattered bills at the bemused driver and carried on running.

She cursed Root as she ran. Cursed Root, cursed Root’s employer, and cursed herself for getting into such a stupid situation. This was _exactly_ the kind of attention that could ruin her career. People didn’t want assassins who drew the public eye - they wanted ghosts. Maybe that was why Root was so good.

Her left arm was really starting to get to her now, and she knew that if she didn’t get to the safe house soon, she’d black out. 

When she reached the door, she looked around to see if anybody was following her. The safehouse was on a busy street where her comings and goings would go unobserved, but not busy enough so that Shaw would be unaware of surveillance. Confident that she would’ve shaken off anybody tailing her, she slipped into the apartment block and stumbled up the stairs until she reached her door. She’d put a lot of money into keeping this place in pristine condition for an event such as this, so those cleaners had better have done their damn jobs.

Getting the key into the lock to three attempts due to the fingers in her left hand now feeling extremely numb. She slammed the door behind her and quickly peeled off her jacket and shirt, both of which were soaked in sweat and blood. She jarred her injured arm in the process and hissed with pain.

Shaw knelt down to reach the med box that she kept under the sink, and when she stood up, spots covered her vision for a long moment -she needed to get a move on. Where the hell was John?

She swabbed carelessly at the wound with alcohol wipes and took the tweezers out of the box. At first, she worried that her shaking hands wouldn’t be able to pull out the bullet, but thankfully her muscle memory from her medical training kicked in and eased the bullet out. It hit the white kitchen tiles with a soft clunk and Shaw breathed a sigh of relief.

And then she passed out.

***

The next few hours were a little groggy, to say the least. Shaw stirred a few times in response to movement and pain but fell asleep again quickly. She was vaguely aware of low voices as she drifted in and out of consciousness. When they became so clear that she felt like they were beating her brain, she finally tried to bat them away with an arm. It was a bad choice.

Suddenly wide awake, she sat bolt upright groaning at the pain now shooting through her left bicep. When it had passed, she took in her surroundings.

Someone had moved her to the bed in the few hours (she assumed) that she’d been out, and the pain in her arm had been caused by nearly ripping out an IV as she moved. There was a bag of nearly empty blood hung up on a stand next to the bed, but where that came from, Shaw didn’t know or care at that moment. The low voice getting closer to her room and the headache that followed reminded her why she’d woken up.

“..thanks for covering Lionel.” a beat as the door handle turned and, “Yeah. I do owe you one.” 

John hung up as he entered the room, carrying a bottle of whiskey in one hand, and a plate with sandwiches on in the other. Shaw blinked.

“You...made me a sandwich?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“Figured you’d be hungry. How are you feeling?”

“Like I just got shot,” she said grumpily, tearing into the sandwich. “How long was I out?”

“I’m not sure, you were unconscious when I got here. About four hours maybe? You looked like you needed the sleep so I left you.”

“Bit heavy on the mustard.” she replied through a mouthful, and then meeting his eyes, “Thanks, John.”

“No problem. I was just returning the favour,” he said awkwardly, but Shaw paid him no mind. Now that she was no longer hungry or unconscious, she was ready to get up and go. Carefully, she pulled the IV out of her arm, ignoring John’s protests, and stood. 

“What now?” he asked.

“First, I’m going to take a shower. Then,” she said grimly, “I’m going to find Root. And I’m going to kill her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short and I am tired.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: https://faithandbuffy.tumblr.com/
> 
> If you're enjoying this story, maybe buy me a coffee? ko-fi.com/faithandbuffy


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